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<title>You Can't Stop The Clock - Nov 20, 2020 by Inky_moro</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652238">You Can't Stop The Clock - Nov 20, 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_moro/pseuds/Inky_moro'>Inky_moro</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anno Uno Scribere [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CrankGameplays - Fandom, Unus Annus - Fandom, Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>365 days to write, A teensy bit of death, Anno Uno Scribere, Based On: The Bad Kind of Cupping, Gen, It continues lel, Memento mori, Nov 20, The Cupping Saga, Unus Annus, another actual story this time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:48:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>809</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_moro/pseuds/Inky_moro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 6</p>
<p>Based on random stuff from 'The Bad Kind of Cupping' and also a sort of continuation of my work for 'The Good Kind of Cupping'</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anno Uno Scribere [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Can't Stop The Clock - Nov 20, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This might not make too much sense w/o part two of 'Do You Believe In Cod?' so I'll try and get to that soon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <s>school is a bitch</s></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You wake up to white.<br/>
You are in a white room, staring at the ceiling. It’s bright, but as far as you can tell there are no lights. You sit up on the strange white cot-table-thing you were lying on and look about, letting the pale sheet covering you fall to the ground. Immediately you notice a small white shelf protruding from halfway up one of the white walls, and upon it is a beautiful porcelain vase. Inside the vase is a singular sprig of lilac, its stem the only color in an otherwise white world. </p>
<p>You slide off the table to stand, and the cool white tiles seem to welcome your bare feet instead of causing you to shiver. You amble toward the lilac and lean down to sniff it. Upon scenting nothing, you resolve to gaze at the sprig for a moment before searching more of the room. Most of it is barren, merely a small L shaped room, but as you complete a turn of 180 degrees you notice something new. A white pillow, which apparently your head had lain on- judging by the imprint- and an open door, leading to somewhere just as bright. </p>
<p>You stumble toward the door and carefully peep out.<br/>
Nothing but a long, bright, white hallway and a few doors in either direction. There is a small white shelf across from the doorway, but nothing is on it. You go left on impulse, and carefully tread down that expanse of the hallway. You try a few of the doors on your way, but most of them are locked. The one door you can open leads to a small closet with a roomba and a few books with odd scribbles on them in it. You shake your head in confusion, <i>Who the hell puts a roomba and.. <s>cult manuscripts??</s> In a closet</i>.</p>
<p>With that thought you receive the distinct feeling of being watched.<br/>
You shake it off as you close the door, this isn’t the weirdest shit you’ve experienced after all. Still, you check both sides of the hallway for any people or <i>things</i> before continuing left. You pass by a few more doors, but those are locked as well. A small pale suitcase gives you pause, as does its contents- a bunch of cups in neat little rows, their colors so faded you can’t tell what they once were. You try picking it up, since it’s a potential weapon or carrying case, but damn is the little thing heavy!</p>
<p>You frown, the hallway.. it almost seems darker.. <i>but how is that possible without any lights?</i> Well, light without a light source was pretty wack already. You look around and freeze.</p>
<p><i>What the <b>hell</b> is </i>that<i>?</i></p>
<p>About ten feet in front of you is the apparent end of this hallway, and a broken black.. window?? You slowly creep forward, mindful of the bits of black glass on the floor. The thing feels familiar somehow.. it appears to be simultaneously sucking the light from the room and creating its own. Through the cracks in the glass streams violet light, and noise and images seep through with it. </p>
<p>There is a raucous crowd of quadrupeds chanting and dancing and swarming around two figures, one black and blue, the other red and white. The two are raised above the others, clearly visible in a way that would be impossible if they were not on a platform or stage. They aren’t that far away, and you consider calling out, but the people appear to be outside of their right minds; it’s probably not a good idea.<br/>
Indeed, they are mad, for as you continue watching you hear screams as some of them are trampled beneath the feet of others. They pay no mind to their fallen companions and keep dancing upon their corpses.</p>
<p>Your eyes are drawn away from the wretched scene by the shattering of glass behind you. You whip around and stare at the now grey hallway... and the white glass splattered across the tile. There are clocks everywhere, some shattered broken circles, some whole and still ticking, all white. The ticking, dear <i>cod</i> how did you not notice before?! As if on cue, the creaking of doors opening fills the air, one after the other. Figures, dressed all in white, enter the hallway and look around. Their hands are glowing with soft white light. </p>
<p>You are stuck frozen as screams echo behind you, clocks shatter, and doors open in front of you. Attempting to raise your hands to cover your ears, you notice what you hadn’t before. Your hands glow with the same light as the other figures’ do. There are symbols etched into your skin with light.</p>
<p>On one hand is a larger number that you seem to have some sort of memory of. </p>
<p>On the other is 00:00:00:00</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I kept imagining people in the hallway while I was writing this and it freaked me out.. ;-;<br/><s>rip my sleep schedule</s></p>
<p>Word Count: 809 :)) I feel proud</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <span class="small">psst. would anyone be interested in seeing a dark fairy tale I wrote?</span><br/>no?<br/><s>alright then</s></p></blockquote></div></div>
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